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face was a mask of disapproval and his eyes flashed with anger.
“What?” Dane knew he was a mess, having just rolled out of Kristan’s bed, but that was rarely an
issue for Cyrus. He didn’t seem to give much of a damn about anything Dane did, so long as Dane did what
needed doing. Dane had long since outgrown the days when he’d wanted Cyrus to care one way or the
other. Lately, they only had a real difference of opinion when Dane insisted on trying to take care of him.
The wind sweeping in the window swirled around him, tugging his hair in all directions. “Yes, yes, I
know…” Cyrus waved a hand on the way over to the desk. Dane knew full well that wasn’t directed at him
and, given what glimpses he could catch from the corners of his eyes, he didn’t want to know what was
speaking. Some magics, he avoided like the plague.
“Jonas has come to the city,” Cyrus snapped. “And you’re off bedding one of my…”
Jonas was here—the idea sent a thrill of adrenaline spiking along Dane’s spine. “Didn’t see any harm
in it.” Dane picked up the computer he usually used on the way over to his chair. He glanced at Cyrus from
behind his tangled hair, gauging how angry the old mage was. “She’s a big girl. Keeps her from going out
after it.”
“And you.” There was anger and derision in Cyrus’s voice.
“You want me here to look after the boy,” Dane pointed out reasonably. Cyrus got amusingly snippy
when Dane’s sex life intersected with his awareness. He settled in his chair, eyes on the computer screen.
“There’s got to be something in it for me, if I’m going to babysit.” He didn’t intend to admit to Cyrus, now or ever, that he liked his time with Lindsay.
“You haven’t touched him, have you?”
Dane wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. He damn well knew that Lindsay was off-limits, for
more reasons than Cyrus’s fretfulness. But the way Cyrus said it made his hackles rise. His too-sharp teeth ground against each other and he forced the anger down. He knew when he was being baited.
“If you’d let me out to do my job, I’d have found Jonas already,” Dane snapped, instead. “And I’d
already have a way to kill him.” All the fucking in the world, no matter who it was, wouldn’t make up for
missing out on that. “Let me go.”
“No.” Cyrus shook his head so that his hair spilled around his shoulders in fresh disarray. Dane
opened his mouth to protest, but Cyrus silenced him with a gesture. “We will be watching him. We must be
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Tatterdemalion
certain who holds his leash. We may even discover where they are. You and the boy will be going to
Ezqel.”
“Send Vivian.” Dane threw the computer over onto Cyrus’s desk where it landed with a crash, and he
pushed himself to his feet. “Send Kristan. Go yourself. I don’t care. I’m not leaving you alone while Jonas is hunting in my city.” He’d had about enough of this. Cyrus was his responsibility, not Lindsay, not
anything else. “Even if I did, that’s the last place I’d go.”
The conversation was over. Dane stalked to the door and tried to wrench it open, but it wouldn’t
budge. The knob turned, the metal creaked with strain under his hand, but a great force resisted him.
“Let me out, Cyrus.” The hair stood up on the nape of Dane’s neck and a snarl rose in the back of his
throat. He hated this show of power and, in the moment, he hated Cyrus.
“This is too important for your feelings to matter here,” Cyrus said simply. “What was between you
and Ezqel, what is between you and I, what is to come between you and Jonas, none of it matters.” Dane
turned slowly to see Cyrus looking at him with rare sympathy. “You know it already. The extent of events
makes your opinion on this irrelevant. We must know what they know of us. We must know what they
have done to the boy.”
Dane rattled the door one more time, jerking hard. The wood screamed in protest, but all he did was
make a muscle in his shoulder part under the strain. His flesh tingled as it repaired itself.
“Why Ezqel?” Dane knew there were other people who were knowledgeable in similar magics; he’d
gone to them in the past, for his own affairs as well as Cyrus’s.
“Ezqel stands a greater chance of healing him. And you.” For a moment, Cyrus sounded like he had
once when he was younger, when he’d looked at Dane out of a face as pale and unlined as Lindsay’s. “You
can refuse Ezqel until you die. Your death will be needless, but you will at least have your pride. You
ca
Dane sagged against the inside of the door, letting his head fall back against it. “Have I ever?” he
asked quietly.
“Not yet,” Cyrus murmured.
“And I won’t,” Dane said, meeting Cyrus’s eyes and refusing to look away from the darkness there.
“Not for some days. Isn’t that right?”
Cyrus’s expression shifted to one of real sorrow, and Dane regretted speaking, because Cyrus had
enough pain. “I forget how well you hear. Dane…”
Dane shook his head and pushed away from the door. “Don’t say anything.” Whatever it was, he
didn’t want to know. “Did Viv get our tickets?” He picked up his computer and took his seat in his chair
again. Why he bothered to fight, after all these years, was beyond him. They were locked in their dance.
“You’ll find them in your account.” Cyrus was still watching Dane, but Dane turned his attention to
making sure the computer wasn’t broken.
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Anah Crow and Dia
The door swung open as though nothing had been amiss and Vivian stepped in. “I have his
documents,” she said brightly. There was an envelope in her hand and she set it on Cyrus’s desk. “I think
we’re all set.” Her smile dimmed when she saw Dane’s face, but she turned back to Cyrus without
comment.
“Go get the boy, then.” Cyrus picked up the envelope and sorted through the contents. “We will see if
he likes my plans any better.”
Lindsay was still huddled in Dane’s chair when Vivian found him. Outwardly, he was reading the
paper, but inside, he was trying to get Kristan’s words to stop echoing in his head. Instead of pictures in the paper, all he could see were the bruises on her skin where Dane’s mouth must have been.
Suddenly, he hated her with a passion that did nothing to keep him from hurting as well. He wanted to
hate Dane too, but he didn’t have it in him. It wasn’t Dane’s fault that Lindsay was undesirable. Thin. Pale.
Wrong-bodied. Broken. Weak. Dane had been good to him for no reason at all—that made him better than
Lindsay had dreamed, and it made Lindsay a fool.
“There you are, Lindsay.” Vivian’s voice was as bright as the sunshine. She was good to him, like
Dane had been. Unlike Kristan, she never made Lindsay uncomfortable. “How are you today?”
Lindsay peered over the shield of the newspaper. “I’m fine. Much better. Thank you.” It wasn’t really
a lie. Nothing was wrong with him other than his broken magic and his foolishness.
“Cyrus would like to talk to you.”
Lindsay swallowed hard, fighting tightness in his chest and pricking in his eyes. “Have I done
something wrong?” It felt like that kind of day.
“No!” Vivian gave him a sweet smile. “Quite the opposite. Cyrus needs you. Go on up to his office.”
She gestured toward the stairs. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
Soothed by Vivian’s reassurances, Lindsay put his newspaper on the table beside Dane’s chair and
stood up. “Thank you,” he said softly, heading for the stairs. He didn’t want to make Cyrus wait.